From Me
by writestories315
Summary: Who do you get what from?


Title – From Me  
Author name - Carol  
Rating - G  
Spoilers – a few if you want to nit-pick, but none really  
Disclaimer – If I own JAG then why am I wearing my Donald Duck pajamas that are two sizes too big?  
Summery – Where do you get what from?  
Author's Notes – The song belongs to the wonderful and talented Reba McIntire and it's 'He Gets That from Me.' I will call this one another different one that just hit me.

* * *

"Five more minutes young man!" I yell into my son's bedroom. 

"But mooommm," the young boy whines back and the pillow goes over his head.

I ignore him and go down the stairs. "That boy is going to the death of me." I go into the kitchen and start getting breakfast ready for the two of us. The two of us, I will never get use to that.

A bowl for his frosted flakes and a glass of orange juice. A growing boy needs all the help he can get to be strong and healthy. I have no reason to worry about my son being strong when he's grows up. That will be one thing he got from his father.

I go to the bottom of the stairs preparing to yell up them, but I hear the thud from him jumping off his bed and the sound of his feet stomping into the bathroom. "Yep, another hater of the mornings. Just like me."

_His early mornin' attitude:  
You have to drag him out of bed.  
Only frosted flakes will do,  
He gets that from me:  
Yeah, he gets that from me._

"So I was thinking that after school Tim and I could go to the park and throw the ball around," my son informs me as he eats his frosted flakes.

"What about your school work?" I ask.

"Tim and I will have it done before we go to the park. Please Mom?"

I look at him and I know I can't resist. His dark hair falling into his face. He needs a hair cut; it's starting to curl at the ends. His eyes shinning and his thin line of freckles appear to be a bit darker than usual. He's been at the park a lot this year. I smile and he knows I'll say yes.

"Okay, but you have to be home by five."

"I will, Mom, promise." He grins and picks up his bowl to drink the milk from the bowl.

Of course at this time the dog bumps his leg causing my son to jump and the milk to spill down the front of his shirt. "I'll get a towel." I stand from the table.

"No, its cool, Mom. Besides he likes it."

As I turn around with the towel in my hands the dog is licking the milk from my son's shirt and he's just laughing.

_His curly hair and his knobbly knees:  
The way the sun brings those freckles out.  
Talk and talk, never miss a beat,  
Yeah, he gets that from me:  
He gets that from me._

He just left the house for school. He's a good boy. Happy and smiling. It's sad, but at the age of eight he's breaking hearts. His smile is just like yours. I hold your picture in my hands, like I do every day after he walks out the door. He's just like you.

I'll do anything to make him happy and he knows it. Last night we were watching the news and he just held my hand when they talked about the war. God, I wanted to cry.

I don't want to be without you, but I am. I just pray that I'll never be without him. I can't handle it some days, knowing that you're not going to be coming home. But I would lose it if he never came home to me. He's what keeps me together on those days. No, he's what keeps me together everyday. I need him, just like I need you.

_He looks at me with those big brown eyes:  
He's got me in the palm of his hands,  
And I swear sometimes it's just like you're here again.  
He smiles that little crooked smile:  
There's no denying he's your child.   
Without him I don't know what I'd do:  
He gets that from you:   
Oh, he gets that from you._

Like a good son at five on the dot he came home and told me all about his day. His adventure with Tim in the park and the old man they talked to as they feed the ducks. We ate dinner, watched the news, and went over his math homework. Once his chores and homework were done he went upstairs and I could hear him.

I'm glad he's not like most kids and getting to that age to where he will play his radio. No, not my son. He's upstairs practicing his guitar. Well, I should say your guitar. He loves that thing so much. I offered to get him lessons, but he wanted to teach himself. Just like how his father learned how to play. He's getting pretty good at it. There are times he sounds just like you when you were learning a new song.

As the night goes on he comes down a few times and tells me about his progress. He tells me jokes he learned at school and makes me laugh. He is so perfect in so many ways. He is so like you in all of those ways.

_How he loves your old guitar:  
Yeah, he's taught himself to play.  
He melts my heart: tells me he loves me every day.  
And cracks jokes at the perfect time,  
Makes me laugh when I want to cry.  
That boy is everything to me:  
He gets that from you:  
He gets that from you._

I crawl into bed after saying good night to my son. He looked at me with his blue eyes and told me he loves me. I nearly cry every time; it's like looking into your eyes again. I melt around him. Just like I did around you.

I stood by his door as he said he prays. They were the same as always. "Lord, bless my family and friends and the men fighting in the war. But if you could Lord, could you help me and mom make it through. And keep an eye on Dad, let him know that we're okay. I miss him and I know Mom does, too. Amen."

_Last night, I heard him pray:  
Lord, help me and mama make it through.  
An' tell Daddy we'll be okay:  
He said he sure misses you:  
He sure misses you.  
He really misses you:  
He gets that from me._

I miss you so much and there is nothing I can do. He misses you so much and there nothing we can do. All we can do is hope that someday you'll walk though the front door and be here. Be with your son and with me again. I need you and miss you so.

From his blue eyes, to his heart, to his freckles. My son is everything that you are. Except that he's here. I trace my fingers across your picture as a tear falls down my cheek. "I miss you so, Harm. Please be safe wherever you are. We love you and miss you."

I return the picture to its place on the nightstand and turn off the light. My head rest on my pillows and my dreams start to take me to my husband. He holds me in his arms and says, "I love you, Trish. I love you with everything I am. And our son will get that from me."

**THE END**


End file.
